


all i want of the world

by figure8



Series: i’ll stop the world [4]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Graduate School, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 12:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: “Shut up,” Wonwoo mumbles, embarrassed. “I haven’t gotten laid in half a month.”“Well,” Junhui says dryly, “Not for lack of trying onmypart, that’s for sure.”





	all i want of the world

**Author's Note:**

> objectively part of a bigger story, standalone for now. i just think jww needs to be Tenderly Dommed and i’ve decided to be the change i want to see in the world
> 
> **EDIT 11/6:** now that light blue and gentle is complete, i can finally ~officially put the two together in the same series. this was posted before LBAG but written after, and is intended as a coda—not exactly a sequel in the sense that it doesn't much advance the story and doesn't even really need the LBAG context, but it is a vignette set in the same universe, in continuity, and it definitely is a look into their future.

_ in the same way, each morning, I _

_ keep myself from saying too loud I _

_ love you until the moment you flush _

_ the toilet, then I say it, when the _

_ rumble of water running down through _

_ the house could mean anything: flood, _

_ your feet descending the stairs any _

_ moment; any moment the whole world, _

_ all I want of the world, coming down. _

— Carl Phillips, _ Domestic _

  
  
  


Junhui is a warm, familiar presence behind him. Hands on the back of Wonwoo’s chair, he bends down to plant sweet kisses to the side of Wonwoo’s neck. 

“Come to bed, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s late, aren’t you tired?”

Wonwoo sighs, tilts his head to the left reflexively. “I really have to finish this argument at least.” 

“You said that two hours ago, too,” Junhui says, breath hot on Wonwoo’s skin. Wonwoo can’t help but shudder. 

“Give me thirty minutes,” he bargains. 

Junhui reluctantly detaches himself from him. “I’m going to handcuff you to the headboard,” he shakes his head. 

He clearly means it as a threat, but Wonwoo hasn’t had time to even jerk off, let alone have _ sex _in more than a week, so his brain immediately flies to the gutter. It must show on his face somehow, because Junhui arches an eyebrow. 

“Really?” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” Wonwoo mumbles, embarrassed. “I haven’t gotten laid in half a month.”

“Well,” Junhui says dryly, “Not for lack of trying on _ my _part, that’s for sure.” 

Wonwoo throws an anguished look at his screen. The clock on the top right reads _ 23:17. _ The word count at the bottom is _ abysmal. _He has so much left to write. 

“Thirty minutes,” he says again. “If you’re awake when I come to bed then you can fuck me. Deal?” 

Junhui’s face lights up like it’s Christmas. He nods _ deal _ happily, presses a chaste kiss to Wonwoo’s cheekbone and disappears into their bathroom. 

Wonwoo can hear the shower running while he tries to focus on his thesis, and Junhui humming under the spray—some gentle, upbeat melody. Affection floods his system like a forest fire, burning through, nothing left standing. He could be alone in this apartment, fighting himself in the mirror every morning for being stupid enough to sign up for this hellish PhD program, eating reheated microwavable meals every evening. Instead he lives with the love of his life, and gets to have dinner with him, and hears him sing in the shower. He closes his eyes, rubs his face with the back of his hand. Half an hour. He can do this. 

  


Junhui is reading when Wonwoo comes into their bedroom after his own shower. He’s laying on top of their covers, back to the headboard, wearing the silk pajamas Wonwoo got him for Valentine’s day the year before. He usually sleeps in his boxers, only ever really uses nightwear when they’re traveling, which means he purposefully chose to put those on tonight. He’s too engrossed in the novel he’s reading to notice someone else just walked into the room, so Wonwoo allows himself to stare for a minute, leaning against the doorframe. Junhui is always beautiful, but there’s something particularly overwhelming about seeing him in their bed, relaxed and comfortable, the cream color of the silk contrasting prettily with his tan skin. This is a sight reserved for Wonwoo only. It’s _ his. _

He clears his throat and Junhui looks up. 

“Hey,” he beams, and he looks so genuinely happy to see Wonwoo that Wonwoo’s stomach contracts almost painfully. Love, he thinks, sometimes is a hand of stone through the ribcage.

“Hey yourself,” Wonwoo says softly, walking to the bed to kiss him. Junhui sets his book down on the nightstand blindly then curls a hand around the back of Wonwoo’s neck to bring him closer, and the towel around Wonwoo’s hips slides to the floor. Junhui laughs against his mouth, his other hand immediately settling on Wonwoo’s waist. Wonwoo climbs on top of him on the bed, Junhui between his legs. They make out like that for a while, until Wonwoo starts biting his way along Junhui’s jawline and Junhui has to reluctantly push him away. 

“No marks, baby, I have work tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says, fingers trailing down Junhui’s chest to slip under his shirt. He feels Junhui’s abdominal muscles flex under his touch, and Junhui makes a small sound under his breath, but when he goes to undo the first button Junhui stops him with a hand on his wrist. 

“Thought you were gonna cuff me to the headboard and have your way with me,” Wonwoo teases. “You can’t do that dressed.”

“I have other plans for you,” Junhui says, grip still firm around Wonwoo’s wrist. It gets to Wonwoo’s head, just a little. He’s half hard already. He can’t help it, he has developed a Pavlovian response to being restrained in this bed. “Turn around, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Ah, so Junhui wants him face down tonight. Wonwoo doesn’t mind much either way, although it’s always nice to be able to look him in the eye as he slides home. This position has its advantages too, he thinks, cheek pressed to the soft cotton of their bedsheets. Like this Junhui can kiss and lick his way down Wonwoo’s spine, tender, warm. He uses his teeth and then immediately soothes the sting with his tongue, and Wonwoo gasps, grabbing a fistful of the linen to give himself something to do and not start making embarrassing noises this fast. 

Junhui’s mouth leaves him when it gets to the small of his back, and then Wonwoo hears him uncap the bottle of lube, squeeze some out. He’s expecting the first finger but it makes him shiver anyway, cool stickiness against burning skin. 

“Sorry,” Junhui huffs, bending down to press an apologetic kiss to his back. “Cold?”

“You’re fine,” Wonwoo mumbles. 

Junhui only rubs the pad of his finger over his perineum at first, giving Wonwoo a second to relax before sliding unhurriedly inside, which Wonwoo is grateful for because they haven’t done this in a while. The body remembers, though—he opens easily for Junhui, legs spreading further reflexively, bones liquefying. 

“I missed you,” Junhui says softly. He waits a breath before curling his finger upwards, moving very slowly inside Wonwoo. The pace makes Wonwoo’s brain feel hazy already, like wading through cotton. 

“You see me every day.”

“I missed touching you,” Junhui rectifies. “I want you all the time, Wonwoo-ya, you know that.”

He does know that. He thought it would fade with time, but it has not, for neither one of them. On some days all Junhui has to do is _ look _at him and Wonwoo will drop to his knees. 

“Give me one more,” Wonwoo demands. Junhui leans in to kiss him again, his shoulder blade this time. 

With two fingers in, Wonwoo expects Junhui to start fucking him with his hand, build up a rhythm, but instead he keeps going excruciatingly slow. 

“Junhui,” he rasps, “Can you please—”

He cuts himself off when his body tries to arch; Junhui’s rubbing over his prostate, gentle but _ insistent, _ sending a column of sparks up his spine. Wonwoo feels him chuckling more than he hears him, his breath sharp and hot. He knows he could ask him to go faster, but he doesn’t really think Junhui can be swayed, and this feels so _ nice _anyway. 

“Fuck,” he hisses when Junhui starts prodding at his prostate again, this time a little harder. He rolls his hips uselessly, bucking into thin air. On his knees like this there is no way to get any friction. “Fuck, are you gonna get me off like this—?”

“That’s tempting,” Junhui says. He’s doing that thing—that thing where he tries really hard to modulate his voice to sound unaffected, even though Wonwoo knows him too well by now to be completely fooled. It’s why he put on the pajamas too, Wonwoo realizes belatedly. He likes the contrast, likes having Wonwoo naked under him while he’s not, likes the casual authority it seems to afford him. “But not tonight, no. Except if you think you have it in you to come twice.”

Wonwoo seriously considers it. He wants to say yes, arousal like gasoline at the pit of his belly, the idea of coming untouched just from Junhui finger-fucking him and then being taken while he’s still open and pliant and sloppy dizzying. But he’s also exhausted, and he doesn’t think he has the patience for something like that. Junhui likes to take his time. Wonwoo, currently, just _ really _wants to come. 

“Not tonight,” he agrees. “Want you to fuck me tonight.” It’s the truth, but he’s also hoping to goad him into doing _ something _ before Wonwoo expires from frustration. 

“I wanna try something,” Junhui says. 

He lets up and Wonwoo pants into the mattress. It’s damp under his face; he drooled a little without realizing it. He feels himself blush, but he has zero time to really dwell on that, because suddenly there’s something against his ass again, and it is too cool and too hard to be flesh. 

“Oh,” he gasps, hand twisting in the sheets again. 

“Wonwoo,” Junhui says gently, something terribly fond in his voice. “Yes?”

“Is it the red one?” Wonwoo asks. They own a variety of dildos. He can take the red one easily; it’s long but it’s a tad thinner than Junhui’s cock. 

“It’s the black one,” Junhui says, caressing his side. He kisses Wonwoo shoulder again, and again. 

The black dildo is a _ lot _thicker. Wonwoo ordered it online alone in a fit of bravery; it’s not enormous but it is definitely imposing. Whenever they’ve used it he had been prepped much more thoroughly than this, with Junhui usually eating him out beforehand. 

The thing is, Wonwoo likes pain. Not always, and not a _ lot _ of it, but he likes things harsh once in a while, sometimes maybe even mean. He likes sex on the edge of _ too much, _ and one thing about Junhui is that he’s good at navigating the _ almost, _the grey area between pain and pleasure. He seems to instinctively know what Wonwoo wants. Wonwoo knows that comes with practice, rationally, but it impresses him anyway.

The thing is, really, that Wonwoo has been so tense, so stressed about his snail-like progress on his thesis, he really wouldn’t say no to something extra right now.

“Okay,” he says, voice a little strained. “Yeah—do it.” 

“You’re so perfect for me,” Junhui breathes out, awe coloring his words, covering Wonwoo’s body with his as he leans down again to kiss his nape. “Xingan, you’re always so perfect.” He’s gone again in barely a second, but even that furtive contact of silk against bare skin is almost too much. 

He drizzles more lube on Wonwoo’s hole, directly from the bottle, and Wonwoo swears loudly this time. Junhui does not apologize. 

“Breathe,” he orders, and it’s Wonwoo’s only warning before he pushes the toy in. 

He goes slow but it still hurts, the stretch a subterranean sort of pain, a fire but contained. Wonwoo exhales through his nose, shakily, knuckles white where he still hasn’t let go of the bedsheets. By the time the dildo is sheathed inside him he’s trembling again, eyes shut. Slowly, the burn fades into fullness. When Junhui finally gives a small experimental thrust, Wonwoo makes a noise he cannot even identify. 

_ “Junhui—” _

Junhui doesn’t say anything, just runs his free hand over Wonwoo’s back, his touch devastatingly reverent. He draws the dildo out, then pushes in again, keeping the motion shallow—again and again and again. All Wonwoo can do is take it, a stream of broken moans trickling from his lips. 

“You’re doing so well,” Junhui murmurs. Wonwoo is seeing white spots on the corners of his vision with every hit to his prostate. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” 

“Jun,” Wonwoo says, strangled, “I’m gonna come.”

It’s a steady pressure building up inside him, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over, electricity crackling on the surface. Junhui wraps an arm around his chest and lifts him up, and like that it is easy for Wonwoo to turn his head so their mouths can meet, and Junhui kisses him hard and deep and fucks him just as hard, working the toy in and out of him faster and faster. 

“Jesus _ fuck_,” Wonwoo grunts loudly as he comes, shooting thick ropes of white, some of it catching as high as his chest. Junhui _ finally _gets a hand around his cock, milks Wonwoo’s orgasm out of him. With no support, Wonwoo falls back to his elbows on all fours, face pressed to the bed. Junhui keeps fucking him with the dildo, coaxes out a few juddering aftershocks until Wonwoo begs him to stop, oversensitive and spent. 

There is a lapse of untetheredness as Junhui carefully pulls out, Wonwoo feeling weirdly empty. He’s never been a huge fan of this part. He closes his eyes, slides down flat on the bed. The mattress creaks, and Wonwoo thinks Junhui has gotten up, but he’s not sure and he cannot find it in himself to turn around and check. 

“Hey,” Junhui whispers against the shell of his ear, close again, “You okay there?”

“My legs feel like jelly,” Wonwoo whines. He feels something slide wetly against the inside of his thighs, frowns before he recognizes the smell of the baby wipes they keep in the nightstand specifically for this reason. Junhui turns him over gently to clean him up everywhere.

“I was going to bring a warm washcloth but I didn’t want to leave you alone,” he says. He’s sitting next to Wonwoo on the bed, still looking so awfully put together it’s unfair. His hair still looks perfect. His cheeks are rosy from exertion, but that is the only sign. Well, that and the tent in his pants. 

“You were going to fuck me,” Wonwoo says, unthinkingly linking their hands together. Junhui intertwines their fingers, thumb rubbing nonsensical patterns on Wonwoo’s palm.

“I did fuck you, baby,” he smirks. “So good you can’t move.” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. You didn’t get to come.” 

“I’m fine. This wasn’t for me. Do you think you can sleep now?”

“I want to suck you off,” Wonwoo shakes his head. 

“Do you, really? You get lazy after you come, babe,” Junhui says affectionately. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo amends, laughing lightly, “I want you to fuck my mouth, then.” 

“You say the sweetest things,” Junhui grins. Wonwoo knows he has won. 

He pushes his pajama pants down, keeps the top on. Then he climbs back onto the bed, slings a leg over Wonwoo’s shoulders, and stuffs a pillow under Wonwoo’s neck. 

_ Then _he guides himself forward into Wonwoo’s waiting mouth. 

Wonwoo moans. He can’t help it, this is one of his favorite things, especially when his mind isn’t clouded with the urgency of arousal, the pressing need for relief. He’s gotten good at it over the years, discovered at some point that he doesn’t have much of a gag reflex, and he finds the power he holds over Junhui when they do this intoxicating. 

Junhui lets him set the pace at first, so Wonwoo hollows his cheeks and sucks, mouth as wet as he can make it. He pulls back and tongues at the slit and Junhui swears under his breath, eyes going darker than dark. _ Finally _he slides his hand in Wonwoo’s hair so he can hold him exactly where he wants him and presses forward deliberately, and after that he stops being cautious and just thrusts in and out of Wonwoo’s mouth, grip unforgiving on Wonwoo’s hair. 

It resonates obscenely in the silence of the night, the unmistakable slick sounds as Junhui shoves his cock down Wonwoo’s throat, Wonwoo’s choked moans, Junhui’s litany of expletives. Wonwoo lets the mechanical rhythm of it overwhelm him, floating, jaw lax and mind empty.

Junhui comes with his head thrown back in bliss and a long moan, fingers still twisted in Wonwoo’s hair. Wonwoo does his best to swallow, but some of it trickles down his bottom lip, his chin. Junhui’s legs shake with his orgasm and he has to hold on to the headboard for a second, chest heaving. 

He pulls away, kneels back, gaze still dark. He’s so beautiful like that, sweat pearling at his temples, lips red from biting. Wonwoo makes a small needy sound and Junhui leans down to lick his own come off his face then kisses him soft and tender, and Wonwoo melts back against the mattress, happy, cat that got the cream. 

  


“There’s a wet spot,” Wonwoo scrunches up his nose. 

“Yep,” Junhui nods. He’s laying on his side of the bed, a glaring distance between their two bodies because neither one of them wants to touch the sticky mess in the middle.

“Showering before was a mistake,” Wonwoo sighs.

Junhui cackles quietly. “You’re gonna tell me you have the energy to shower right now?”

“Well,” Wonwoo frowns, “No, but I do feel like my shower earlier was a waste of time. I keep telling myself I’ll remember to wear a condom too next time so we won’t have to deal with the mess and then _ every _time I forget.” 

“I’m very distracting,” Junhui says with infuriatingly convincing faux-seriousness, “I understand.” Wonwoo wacks him across the head with one of the extra pillows. “Hey!” Junhui protests, “Is that the thanks I get for dicking you down?”

“There wasn’t even any real dicking involved, you pretentious asshole.” 

He bumps his forehead against Junhui’s arm. Junhui immediately goes to pet his hair. 

“I could fuck you for real in the shower if you want,” he says after a beat of silence. “Two birds, one stone.”

“Okay, so,” Wonwoo snorts, “One, we are terrible at shower sex, we almost died last time we tried. Two, if I try to get it up again tonight I will faint.” 

“That would be unfortunate,” Junhui agrees. “If you get up I’ll change the sheets.”

Wonwoo loves him so, so much.

“Nah,” he says against Junhui’s bicep, “Don’t bother, I’ll survive. Plus,” and he raises his head to look his boyfriend in the eye, “That way when you do fuck me in the morning we won’t have to change them again.” 

Junhui mutters something unintelligible, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, but he also leans down to sweetly kiss Wonwoo goodnight before switching off the light and then takes one for the team and rolls over on top of the wet spot to sling an arm over Wonwoo’s waist, so really, Wonwoo thinks he’s the real winner here. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments feed the authorial flame ❤️


End file.
